Edraith Gwador, To Save a Brother
by Calenlass Greenleaf1
Summary: DISCONTINUED. After an argument with Aragorn, Legolas disappears. When Aragorn at last finds him, he discovers that the elf no longer remembers their friendship, and not even Aragorn himself. What will it take for Legolas to remember? 07 MCA Nominee.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Edraith Gwador, To Save a Brother

**Author:** Calenlass Greenleaf

**Disclaimer:** I make no claims on Tolkien's creations. Legolas, Aragorn, and any other canon characters belong to him.

**Spoilers:** None

**Main Characters:** Aragorn and Legolas

**Timeframe:** Pre-LotR. Aragorn is in his twenties.

**Rating:** PG-13 or T. Borders on an R—See warning.

**Genre:** Drama/Hurt/Comfort/Angst. Horror? Maybe.

**Warning:** There is much angst, torture and violence, with h/c and fluff thrown in at the side. But there is no slash, sex, smut, etc. Not a romance, either. Story may be considered AU in the eyes of some. Please refrain from harming any canon characters in this story—take your vent out on the plot bunnies. And a future alert for tissues. I am not responsible for any broken keyboards.

**Summary:** After an argument with Aragorn, Legolas disappears. When Aragorn at last finds him, he discovers that Legolas no longer remembers their friendship, and not even Aragorn himself. What will it take for Legolas to remember? Written for the EAC entry, 'Prejudice in Middle-Earth.'

**A/N:** Translations provided at the end of the chapter.

Thanks to Kalisona for beta-reading this!

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**Prologue: Defeated**

The spark of light that once existed the elf's blue eyes was gone, replaced by a demeanor that spoke of much suffering. His fair hair was streaked with grime and old blood, and was ragged from lack of hair. Heavy chains hung from his wrists; they were also caked in blood. He stood straight and still in the small room; the only movement he made was when he inhaled quick, small breaths.

Another elf stood in front of him, studying him carefully. Unlike the first elf, his eyes were grey and his hair as dark at the walls of the room they were in. When he spoke his voice soft, yet persuasive. "What is your name?" he asked.

The first elf did not answer. Instead, he looked away from the other elf.

The dark-haired elf roughly grasped him by his chains and pulled him close until their faces were almost touching. "What is your name?" he asked again.

He finally answered. "Legolas…" The voice was horse from disuse. "…Thranduilion."

"And what is my name?" he asked.

When Legolas did not answer immediately, he raised his hand threateningly.

The elf flinched and reluctantly answered. "Daefuin."

He released him, a smile curving on his lips. "Who do you serve?"

Emotions flickered through Legolas' eyes. His chain clanked together as he tightened his hands into fists. Letting his gaze move across the room, he tried to delay his answer as long as possible.

Daefuin backhanded him. "Answer me, or suffer the consequences."

Legolas only shook his head. Sucking the blood from his lip, he spat at Daefuin's feet. "I serve no one," he replied steadily, his face hard.

The other elf smiled, teeth glistening in the dim torchlight. He nodded to several figures standing in the shadows. "Teach him," he simply said.

The fair-haired elf stiffened. Before he could move, many hands were laid on him. He struggled against them, but it useless. Forcing him down on his knees, they proceed to flog the life out of him while Daefuin stood watching.

---------------

It was hours later before they stopped. Collapsing on his hands and knees, Legolas gritted his teeth against the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. Deep lacerations and wounds marred his back, the blood flowing freely and dripping down onto the ground. His face was white as he breathed heavily; he was near losing consciousness.

Someone pulled him up by his arms. He bit back a groan as Daefuin's face came into his view. Legolas glared at him the best he could in his condition.

"Still so stubborn, Legolas?" he softly asked.

He did not answer.

"I suppose I will have to take more drastic measures." He turned to one of the elves. "You know what to do."

The elf nodded. Reaching over, he clamped a hand over Legolas' nose. The Mirkwood elf tried to jerk away, but the other elves held him down.

As Daefuin approached him with a bottle, Legolas drew in a deep breath and shut his mouth, unwilling to comply with the elf.

Minutes passed. His lungs were burning, and his vision was wavering. But in Legolas' opinion, it was better to die of suffocation than to become a servant of this elf.

Someone punched him in the chest, hard. Taken by surprise, he gasped. Daefuin took this chance and forced Legolas' mouth open and poured in the liquid from the bottle. Legolas tried to spit out the potion, but Daefuin continued to pour it in until he was forced to swallow. The potion itself was dark-colored, yet it was as tasteless as water.

With a satisfied grin, Daefuin stepped back.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Then a burning sensation in his head made him close his eyes and clench his jaw. The pain continued to increase, blocking out all his thoughts. Tears stung his eyes—it felt as if someone was drilling a hole in his head.

"Can you feel the pain?" Daefuin's voice came to him. "The burning?"

Legolas made no reply. What was the use of saying anything?

"Soon you will only know what I want you to know, what you should only know." The voice continued to speak. "What you should hate."

Don't speak any more! Legolas silently screamed. No more! But he was powerless to resist.

As Daefuin continued to speak, his voice began to fade. Legolas welcomed the blissful darkness, eager to escape. His eyes rolled back, and he let out a sigh.

He did not realize what a fatal mistake he made. For it was exactly what Daefuin wanted.

---------------

Two days passed. The elf lay in a deep sleep, induced by the drink he had taken and by Daefuin's voice. He had been taken to a small cell where he was guarded.

"How will we know if your plan is successful?" A brown-haired elf watched Legolas.

"Patience, Halwath." Daefuin replied. "It is still in progress"

"If he sleeps any longer, we will lose him."

Daefuin shook his head. "Nay, he is waking now."

Indeed he was. The blue eyes flickered and focused on Daefuin. The dark-haired elf bent down so that no one could hear them. "Do you know who you serve?"

"You." Legolas' voice was flat and emotionless. "Only you." There was a leaden look on his face.

The other elf grasped his chin in his hand. "What of Men?" he asked, a breathless air to his voice.

"What of Men?" Legolas replied, face still impassive. "They are a race that does not belong in Middle-Earth."

Daefuin released him and stepped back. He glanced at Halwath, who stood in the doorway. "What did I tell you?" He laughed softly. "I have done it."

He had made Legolas forget that he once had called a man his friend.

Legolas had been defeated.

Utterly defeated.

**TBC…**

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**Translations (All are Sindarin unless otherwise specified):**

Daefuin – "Shadow night"

Halwath – "Hidden Shadow"

Thanks to Tyrhael at _Peth Pêd Peth!_ (The forum at _Merin Essi ar Quenteli!_) for his help in providing names.

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**A/N:** I will come back _to Apostate's Ruse_, I promise. And a number of other things I have to work on…

**A/N #2:** The next chapter will reveal Daefuin's intentions. I'm being ambiguous right now. Oh, and please—don't hurt Legolas. He's pretty much unaware of what just happened to him…


	2. Chapter 1: Meetings

**Edraith Gwador, To Save a Brother **

**Chapter One: "Meetings" **

The sharp eyes of a guard could make out a figure on horseback. Silently, he motioned to another elf, and they readied their bows. As the figure drew nearer, one of the guards called out something. "_Daro, Dúnadan! Am man theled le sí?_"

The man easily replied, "_Tolon tirol an aran lîn_."

The guards exchanged looks, and one of them nodded. "We will take you to see our king."

/---------------\

Thranduil looked up when a servant knocked on the door of his study. "What is it?"

"A man by the name of Strider is asking for you."

"Strider?" Thranduil thought for a moment. "What does he look like?"

"He is one of the Dúnedain, my lord."

"Dúnedain?" He suddenly remembered. "Sent him in."

The servant nodded. A few moments later, Aragorn appeared. He bowed respectfully. "My lord," He began slowly. "I come to seek your son. For six months now I have not heard from him, and wish to speak with him."

The Mirkwood king looked surprised. "I assumed he was in Rivendell," he replied. "Was he not with you?"

Aragorn looked away. "Nay, he left after two months."

"Only two?" The elf looked at Aragorn. "Tell me, why did he leave so soon?"

"It was over a petty matter." The man softly said. "We…argued, and I said some things that I should not have said."

"About what?" Thranduil pressed.

Aragorn shook his head. "I beg of you not to ask me, my lord." His fingers nervously fined the edge of his worn cloak. "I only wish to apologize to him for what I've said." He sighed heavily.

Thranduil sat in silence. As much as he would like to have known what had transpired between his son and Aragorn, the look of sorrow and remorse on the man's face made him decide to not press the matter. "But Aragorn, he is not here."

"Where is he then?"

A look of worry crossed the king's face. "I do not know, Aragorn. I thought he was with you." He stood up. "I do not know what has befallen him."

"Have you any idea where he might've gone?" The man asked.

"Nay," Thranduil said. "I do not." He walked over to a bookshelf.

For a moment hey were both silent. At last, Aragorn finally said, "My lord, this was my fault. Had we not argued, things would have been different." He looked at Thranduil. "By your leave, I will go and find Legolas."

"You have my leave, _Elrondion_." He gave the Dúnadan a sad smile. "And when you find him, tell him to come home. Six months is too long, even for an elf."

"I will." Aragorn turned to leave. "My lord, if Legolas does return, let him—" He paused, visibly swallowing. "Let him know that I'm sorry for what I said to him." He quickly walked out the room and closed the door behind him.

Thranduil frowned. Had he seen tears in Aragorn's eyes? Or was it the light playing tricks on him? He sighed. "Legolas, where have you gone?"

/---------------\

After spending a night in the Elvenking's halls, Aragorn decided to leave his horse at the palace and find Legolas on foot. As he watched the gates being shut, he wondered where he would even begin. "If I were an elf, trying to hide, where would I go?" he mused to himself. "Perhaps I should begin my search in the north, and go down." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed softly. "_Ai_, if I had only guarded my tongue more wisely!"

--------------------

Daefuin sat in a small room, simply staring out a small window. When another entered his room, he merely nodded and continued to idly tap his thin, long fingers against the side of the desk, lost in his thoughts.

He was not a patient elf. Nor was he impatient. It was simply because those who worked for him knew exactly what he wanted and were always able to surmise his needs. And this was the way he liked it—for everything to run smoothly under his jurisdiction and under no one else's. He began to think about his past, reminiscing on what had happened to him during the last millenniums.

It had not been easy achieving such a level of absolutism. What was the reason for all this? What was he even working for? The elf ceased to tap his fingers, and his eyes had a faraway look in them.

He had never liked Men. Perhaps it was because the first one he had encountered was an old one, one who had already given his spirit to Mandos. He had seen the grey hair, the flaccid skin, and the worn-out body of that man. Daefuin had felt fear first, then horror, and finally, disgust. Is this how all Men were, old and decrepit, without memory by the time they had died? He grimaced at the memory.

He first began harboring his hate when the Númenoreans became more powerful and had fallen to the level of using tyranny to gain more glory. They had begun to be proud and arrogant, and it was during one of their many raids that Daefuin had lost his wife and only son. He had held his son in his arms when the younger elf been mortally wounded. He had seen his son take his last breath most agonizingly, and had felt how his son's fëa had dissipated. His wife had been instantly killed; he had not realized she was dead until after he had buried his son. Lost in his grief, he had retreated into his home and barely spoke to anyone.

What could he have done? Nothing. No one understood his pain, his suffering. There was no one at that time who could comprehend his infinite sorrow or his hate for the _Edain_.

But when the Last Alliance had been formed and broken, he saw his chance. He had seen how Isildur had taken the One Ring as his wergild. Daefuin could remember his contempt, his revulsion at Men's weakness. _Usurpers_ they had been called, and rightfully so. When Isildur had died, he swore an oath: he would kill the future heir of Isildur when he deemed the time was right. Daefuin smiled as he recalled that particular day.

He had waited for many years, ever watching the splendor of Elros' line slowly dwindle. He set his eyes on the Dúnedain, waiting for an opportunity. His spies were everywhere, even dwelling in Rivendell for a time. Words of the last Heir had come to his ears, and Daefuin bode his time well. For many years, he had quietly observed the life of Aragorn, making no move to harm him. He wanted to wait until the man was of age.

Legolas had not gone unnoticed. Daefuin despised him because he associated with Elrond—who in Daefuin's eyes was also inferior because he was half-elven—and had wanted to included the Prince of Mirkwood in his plans.

When he had witnessed Aragorn's and Legolas' argument, he had secretly rejoiced. For he had heard the harsh words exchanged between them, the angry accusations, and the bitter conversation that later followed.

When Legolas left the Last Homely house, Daefuin had followed him until they had reached the entrance into Mirkwood. There, he had the prince surrounded, forcing him to surrender. They took him north into the Ered Mithrin, where the elf and his followers had made their home.

Though it was commonly said that elves disliked mountains and caves, Daefuin enjoyed the darkness and the roughness of the stone. It reflected him—he was dark and rough in every way, save only in appearance and speech. He was a Noldo, tall and pleasant to look at, with his dark hair, grey eyes, and a face that spoke of nobility. But when he smiled there was a sort of sadistic gleam in his eyes, a light that gave indication to his cruel and heartless nature.

He enjoyed seeing any being in pain; whether it was physical or emotional, he relished in it. He had been trying to concoct something that could take a person's recollections away—or at least block a particular memory if he wished to do so. And he did succeed—a nameless liquid that was colorless and tasteless that forced a person to fall unconscious. Daefuin was then able to sort through any thoughts, hide any of them, and implant some of his own thoughts. He did not have the power to take them away permanently—should something trigger the memory, Daefuin was powerless to prevent it from happening. Through careful experimenting, the elf had managed to reduce this to a slim possibility. Only a very strong action could initiate a flashback of any sort.

Naturally, he was quite pleased with himself for creating such a dangerous weapon. And it had worked very well. He had shrouded all of Legolas' memories of Aragorn and placed in their stead a memory of an intense hate for the Númenoreans and an indifference for the other races of Men. The Silvan elf was now in his service, a formidable foe against any Dúnedain with his uncanny skill in archery. He was becoming a deadly assassin. But his plan included far more than just a prince; he also planned to make Isildur's Heir suffer—

"_Hîr nîn?_"

He glanced at Halwath, somewhat annoyed. "What now?" he asked impatiently.

"The _adan_ has been sighted." The elf answered. "He is only six hours away from this place."

"Ah." Daefuin slowly smiled. "So he has finally come." He said more to himself.

"Shall I bring him here?"

"Nay. I have a better idea." The elf straightened in his seat. "Send Legolas to me, Halwath."

/---------------\

"You called for me?" Legolas quietly stepped into the room.

Daefuin nearly leaped out of his chair. Nearly cursing at the silent movements of the other elf, he quickly composed himself. "Legolas, my friend."

"I am not your friend, Daefuin, even though I work for you," He answered with a vexed tone. Just because the two were for the same "cause" did not mean that they were friendly with each other. "What do you want now?"

"Do not talk to me in such a matter," The dark-haired elf replied stiffly. "I want to ask of you a request." Leaning forward as if sharing a secret, he said, "The human we have been after has been sighted."

The room became silent. Legolas' eyes bored into Daefuin's. "How near?" he questioned.

"Six hours before he reaches these mountains," The Noldo answered.

"And I suppose you want me to kill him?" Legolas interjected darkly.

"Not yet. I want him."

"Whatever for?"

Daefuin shook his head. "There is more to taking a life than just a quick death." He glanced at a moth that was flitting at the corner of his desk. "Some beings deserved to die quickly. And others—" With a quick motion he lightly pressed a nail against the body of the insect. "—deserve a more painful demise." He finished as they watched the moth writhe.

Though Legolas was disgusted, he hid his emotions. "I fail to see why that moth had to be killed in such a manner," he slowly said. "It was innocent, just like some men are—"

The other elf brought his hand down hard on his desk, efficiently crushing the moth underneath his fingers. "When will you listen to me?" He asked in frustration. "Mortals are simply like moths and other insects—they are born, they eat, and become adult, they mate, they have children of their own, they grow old, and then they die. Pure and simple. What more is to their life? Nothing, Legolas. They are foolish, weak, and sickly beings that should have never been created." Here, he curled his other hand into a tight fist. "Especially the _Peredhil_." His mouth twisted. "The lot of them all merits an excruciating end. None of them are innocent, not a single one of them!"

During this tirade, Legolas had not moved; he was used Daefuin's frequent bursts of outrages. He merely nodded when the elf was finished speaking. "And the heir of Isildur?" he asked in a low voice. "What are your plans for him?"

Immediately, the other relaxed. "This heir believes that he knows you." He spoke in a soft and mesmerizing voice, carefully monitoring Legolas' demeanor. "He believes that you are a close friend of his. He supposedly has been searching for you these past months in regard to a conversation you had."

Disbelief shone in the depths of Legolas' eyes. "A friend?" he repeated. "Then he is deluded."

"Mostly likely." Daefuin shrugged; it was the least of his worries if he was able to keep the heir unaware of Legolas' condition. "And I want you to play along with him."

"Play along?"

"Pretend that you are his friend, that you know him well. Make him think everything is all right. But once he is within our grasp, there will be no escape for him." He saw the reluctance in the wood-elf's facial expressions. "And I will give to you anything that you ask of me."

Legolas' eyes glittered. "Do you seek to bribe me, Daefuin son of Abhenolor?" He asked. "For though you may be Forgiveness's son, you have not inherited any of your father's nature."

Daefuin sprang from his chair. "And am I proud of that fact. For my father was a fool."

"No more a fool than you. I think you are mad." Legolas did not move when the other drew nearer to him. "Meldion was indeed your treasure, but he was also rightfully named Mistestel."

Daefuin glowered at Legolas, knowing he was right. How he despised the prince of Mirkwood at times! At last, he replied. "Very well. You may do this of your own accord."

The Silvan elf placed a hand on the doorframe. "What is this man's name?"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn." The Noldor elf replied. "And when he is here, I have some things I want you to do…"

---------------

Three hours later, a man wearily trekked on in the dark forest. A mist covered most this land, making it difficult to see anything. As Aragorn paused to take a drink of water, a cold wind ruffled his hair and clothes. He pulled his cloak more tightly around himself, and turned…and nearly crashed into someone he least expected. "Legolas?" He said incredulously.

The elf stepped back. "So we meet again…Aragorn." He said carefully.

Aragorn took no notice of the odd way that Legolas said his name. "Where have you been, my friend?" He asked. "Your father was worried for you when he heard how you had left Imladris in such an abrupt manner."

"Is he now?" There was a touch of annoyance in Legolas' voice. "I am an adult; he needs not to look after me."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "But why are you here?" He asked. "There is nothing here in the north." He looked about his surrounding. "And it is a place I would rather avoid." In the man's opinion, it was far too close to Angmar. Though the place had long been abandoned, it still was not a safe place.

Legolas looked away. "I came here to think, to be away from my home for the time being." He answered. "It is none of your business, Aragorn."

_ Ah, so he is still angry with me,_ the man thought. _But I am not surprised_. Brushing away his thoughts, he quickly replied. "I did not plan to intrude upon you." He tried to place his hand on Legolas' shoulder, but the elf jerked away, an indescribable look upon his face. Concerned, the man held his hands up. "I mean no harm, _mellon nîn_. Is something wrong?"

"Nay," The elf straightened and forced a smile on his face. "I was merely surprised. Nothing more."

---------------

During the next three hours, they simply walked. Legolas did not say a word, and neither did Aragorn. But the man often glanced at his friend, who seemed oddly silent. Finally, he ventured to ask. "About our argument that took place a few months ago—"

"—it has been forgotten." The elf quickly interrupted. Much too quickly.

"I can see how forgotten it is." Aragorn commented. "But I swear, Legolas, I am sorry, I—"

"Please, Aragorn, if you were truly a friend, you would not be bringing this up." He sounded strained. His eyes glimmered in the darkness of the night.

Somewhat taken aback by this, the man nodded. "If you wish."

As he took another step forward, out the mist came three other elves, all carrying bows pointed at them. Tensing, Aragorn looked sideways and was shocked to see that Legolas did not seem concerned. "What—?" he began, but a point of a cold knife suddenly dug into his neck.

"If you value your life, then do not speak." The elf hissed. "Remove your weapons _now_ and drop them on the ground."

Slowly the man did as he was told. He removed the sheathed sword from his belt, along with the rest of his weapons. As one of the

elves began binding his hands he gave a look of disbelief to Legolas, who simply shrugged. "You will find out later, adan." The last word was spat out forcefully. Aragorn flinched at the ropes dug tightly into his skin. As Legolas gave him a light shove, he began walking with his head down, all the while wondering what on Arda was happening.

**TBC… **

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**Translations:**

Daro, Dúnedain! Am man theled le sí? – Hold, Dúnadan! For what reason are you here?

Tolon tirol an aran lîn – I come seeking your king

Elrondion – son of Elrond

Edain – Men

Hîr nîn – My lord

Adan – human

Peredhil – Halfelves

Abhenolor – Means "forgiving." Taken from "_Merin Essi ar Quenteli!_"

Meldion – Beloved son. This was his father-name.

Mistestel – Lost hope. This was his mother-name. Taken from _Merin Essi ar Quenteli!_

Mellon nîn – my friend


	3. Chapter 2: Perfidy

**Edraith Gwador, To Save a Brother **

**Chapter Two: "Perfidy" **

_Disclaimers, warnings, and ratings apply to this chapter. _

As they traveled on, Aragorn attempted to speak with Legolas, but each time he tried to the elf brushed off him as if he were merely an annoying insect. The ranger held back a sigh of annoyance. He twisted in his bonds, testing them. One the elves slapped his hand. "Stop moving!" he snapped.

"They are much too tight. Could you at least—"

The elf cuffed the back of his head. "Do not speak, or else I will—"

"Halwath, enough." Legolas stopped walking and restrained the elf from making any other moves. "You can deal with him later. Not now." He then leveled a look at Aragorn. "And as for you, I that you not speak, or else we will gag you."

The man bit his tongue and looked away. Satisfied, Legolas gave him a shove. "Keep moving," he instructed him.

Aragorn reluctantly obeyed him, wishing he could speak to his friend and try to make sense of all of this. Why was Legolas doing this to him? Was he this angry at him? The Dúnadan shook his head in frustration. It did not make any sense. He glanced about him, wondering who these grim-faced elves were. Every time they looked at him, there was disdain in their darkened eyes, as if…he was at fault for something.

But for what? For speaking rashly? But his problem lay with Legolas, not these people. His head spun with endless possibilities, and so lost was he in his thoughts that he tripped over a tree root. Without his hands to help him, he fell flat on his face, opening up a cut on his lip.

Halwath unceremoniously jerked him up and poked him in the back with the point of his sword. "Keep moving," was all he said.

A saucy answer flew into Aragorn's mind, but he wisely decided not to say anything for the moment. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder, trying to push his hair away from his face. He nearly stumbled again, this over a rock.

Halwath leaned close to Legolas. "He is a clumsy one," he whispered, loud enough for the man to hear.

Legolas snorted. "They are always clumsy on their feet. What would you expect of them?" He could feel Aragorn's eyes upon him. "They were created last, and you know why? Because Ilúvatar ran out of ideas, and therefore these poor souls are mortal and have such short lives." Soft laughter and snickers came from the rest of the elves, and Aragorn could not help but feel a stab of pain in his heart.

The Silvan elf continued carelessly. "Save for only the Númenoreans. But though they do live longer, they have more time to engage in wicked deeds," His mouth twisted as he looked directly at the man. "Such as thinking only of themselves and never stopping to think about the consequences of their actions."

Though Legolas was referring to Isildur, Aragorn thought he was talking about their argument. He lowered his eyes to the ground, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. Maybe he deserved all of this treatment from his friend. Bitterly did he regret his words, wishing he could have a chance to take them back.

But Legolas' actions seemed…odd in a way. The man could not quite put his finger on it, but it felt to him as if the elf no longer recognized him anymore as his friend, but merely as another mortal being. He blinked at his thoughts. He must be mad—how could Legolas forget him? He sneaked a look at the elf. No head wounds or scars were visible, and as far as Aragorn was concerned, amnesia for an elf was rare—they had a strong hold when it came to retaining their memories. Unless the elf had fractured his skull _very_ badly, Aragorn could see no way of it happening at all.

He sighed quietly to himself and turned his attention to the elves around him. Legolas strode purposefully in the front; it was clear he held some sort of high rank. The dark-haired elf flanking the man's right was called Halwath, he knew. Another one was at his right; this one's hair was as fair as Legolas' but his eyes were the color of grass. He peered behind his shoulder to glance at the last elf. The being was taller than most elves, and carried himself with a bearing that seemed proud. His eyes were hazel, and the color was his hair was a deep brown, but not quite black, color. All ignored him, so he turned back around to stare at the back of his friend. He looked longing at his sword and his other weapons, which Legolas held in his arms.

The farther they walked, the more he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Finally he hesitantly asked, "Where are we headed to?"

"To Ered Mithrin," Legolas answered, not even bothering to turn around.

"Why?" the ranger demanded. "Why are you doing this? Do you hate me this much?"

The elf stopped and whirled around, grasping Aragorn by his cloak. "Because someone wants to see you." He answered, his voice so cold that the man pulled a little away from him. "And yes." Paying no heed to the hurt look in the man's eyes the elf released his hold on his clothing and continued to walk.

----------------

The Mirkwood prince adjusted the strap of his quiver, tightening it a little. He frowned, realizing the leather felt worn under his fingers. Mostly likely he would have to replace the strap soon; else he would lose his quiver.

The elf walked on, his thoughts turning toward the strange man. He felt no remorse over what he had said or done to the man, but a tiny part in his mind was eating at him. He thought over what Daefuin had said, and to admit it was confusing. Was the human mistaking him for another? No, for he had called Legolas by his rightful name. The elf frowned. It made little sense. Try as he might, he had no recollection of this Heir of Isildur, yet something about the man was interesting. He felt…drawn to him, as if, in another lifetime, they _did_ know each other.

The fair-haired elf finally decided to push away these troublesome thoughts and to think about other things, such as what Daefuin had wanted him to do. For Aragorn's sake, he hoped the man had a high toleration for pain. If not, then Daefuin would think the fun all over too soon. Then he would send Legolas out to find some other poor soul to torture. For this was not the first time the Noldo had done this.

Due to his deep hate for all Númenoreans, the elf had an insane mission to find a way to kill each one of his victims in the most drawn-out and excruciating way. Time after time, Legolas had heard the men brought in scream; their cries echoed in his ears for days. His lord had not liked his reactions to it. He forced him to accept it, to become insensitive to it.

And he had. Thranduil would have been grieved if he could have seen his son watch someone being punished without even a hint of emotion. Legolas no longer flinched at the sound of a whip; his eyes did not even flicker when they saw another's pain. When someone looked upon him with hate or fear in their eyes he laughed at them mockingly. He had become hardened to it all.

Yet in all of this, a small part of him cried out against his actions and deeds. He still had his doubts, and although he could bear seeing someone in pain, it did not mean that he himself liked to inflict it. He and Daefuin had argued long and hard about this, but the two had finally reached a shaky compromise; Legolas would do whatever Daefuin asked, and then he would not have to assist the Noldo in "experimenting." It was fair enough.

But now, as he reflected, he realized that the ranger had not looked at him with either hate or fear, but with love, a friend's love. When Legolas first looked upon him, those grey eyes had held in them only kindness. And this greatly bothered the elf. He knew the man was Isildur's heir, but this one was different. Very different. If only he could remember where he had seen those eyes before…

He had no more time to ponder, for they had reached Daefuin's dwelling place.

---------------

Aragorn looked up at the dark mountains with no small amount of apprehension in his eyes. Legolas lived _here?_ He could not fathom why; he thought his friend passionately disliked caves.

Someone prodded him; it was the brown-haired elf. "Hurry up!" he hissed at him.

The man followed Legolas cautiously as the elf walked to a crevice at the foot of a mountain, ducking his head. He motioned for them to follow.

Halwath had a tight grip on the man. His fingers gripped his arm so tightly it hurt. Aragorn pushed aside the pain the best he could and tried to see in the darkness. He heard the sound of rock striking against metal, and suddenly he saw Legolas holding a torch. Blinking his eyes, he watched as the elf came close to him.

"Dúron and Halwath, you know where to take him." Then elf handed the torch to Halwath, turned away, and all of a sudden disappeared from sight. By the Valar, what just happened? As the two elves propelled him forward, Aragorn glanced at the spot where he had seen Legolas disappear and saw an opening in the wall. It was another hallway, also dimly lit.

The deeper they went, the more Aragorn felt he was entering a prison of some sort. The corridors and rooms barely had any light in them, unlike the caves of Thranduil's Halls. Everything was either stone or wood; no tapestries or paintings decorated the wall. They had made so many turns and went up and down so many stairways, that Aragorn no longer could figure out in which direction he was heading, and it unnerved him. The many elves stationed here all carried a torch, and in the light the man could see in their eyes was the same hatred he had felt from Halwath and the others. Inwardly shuddering, he was confounded as to why his usually cheery friend who enjoyed his time in tree found delight in such company.

It felt so wrong. Very wrong.

The two elves stopped in front of a large, wooden door. Halwath kicked it twice. "We have him, my lord." he called. His voice echoed oddly in the passageway. The man tensed. He did not want to go in, fearing what would happen. He began to struggle, trying to get free of his captors. Perhaps his chances of escaping alive were slim, but being dead was preferable to being held by an unknown enemy.

Another elf opened the door. Without a word Dúron and Halwath dragged Aragorn in, their strength far greater than his. Without a warning, Halwath shoved him on the ground and landed a solid kick to his back. "Stubborn son of an orc!" he growled.

The Dúnadan held back a yelp of pain as he tried to roll over in order to get to his feet. It was a bad move. Dúron dispassionately kicked Aragorn in the chest, doubling him ever. As the elf seized him by his bound arms and jerked him up.

"What is the meaning of this?" A cool and calm voice broke in. The two elves froze, and Aragorn stopped fighting against them in order to look up at the speaker.

An elf dressed entirely in dark colors stood at the far end of the room. He lit a candle and began walking toward them. The glow of the light cast odd shadows over his face and hair, making him seem disfigured. As he smiled in a feral manner, Aragorn felt his blood run cold. Surely this was the leader? Unconsciously, he tried to pull away, but was he held tightly. He swallowed hard.

"So we meet, Aragorn, son of Arathorn." The elf laughed softly at the shock in the man's eyes. "Do not look at me so; for I know many, many secrets." His voice was low, and he spoke deliberately. "And now, some of them will come to light, heir of Isildur." The last three words said with a little more force.

Aragorn tried to control his panic as he thought frantically. How had this elf known his heritage? He had told no one; only his family, Gandalf, and a few rangers knew. Then he remembered another one who knew.

Legolas. A sickening feeling squeezed his throat closed and he could barely breathe. Surely his friend had not betrayed him to this being? His eyes must have reflected his emotions, for the elf laughed again. "Surprised, young one?" He teasingly asked. Never before had the words, 'young one' sounded more hateful.

"You know who I am," Aragorn finally answered, finding his voice. "But I do not know you. Tell me your name, dark one."

The elf smiled. "I did not tell you my name? It must have slipped my mind." He gave a bow. "I am Daefuin."

"What have you done to Legolas?" the man's voice took on a desperate note.

"Done?" Daefuin quirked an eyebrow. "See for yourself." He nodded to two other guards. "Send for Legolas, please." he instructed them before nodding to Halwath and Dúron, who still held the man.

Cutting Aragorn's bonds, they dragged him over to a wall and slammed him up against it. He tried to get free, but could not. The two easily overpowered him and chained him to the wall by two sets of manacles before turning back to their master. "You may leave," he told them, approaching Aragorn. "I have much to do with this one."

The man closed his eyes, no longer wishing to look at his captor. He had a feeling he knew what would be happening in a very short time. He tried to wrench away when a hand touched his cheek.

"Still so young and reckless, are you?" the voice went on. "It is a pity that you are destined to become like the rest of your ancestors—corrupted, weak, and foolish." Aragorn kept his eyes closed. "I myself have personally seen Isildur, and I also saw the choice he had made." The hand suddenly moved it his hair, yanking his head back painfully. The Dúnadan's eyelids flew open at the treatment, and his eyes met that of the elves.

"Do you know why I hate you Númenoreans the most out of all the races of men? Do you know?" Daefuin's voice had taken on a steely quality to it. "Because they were usurpers and men who only thought for themselves. All of them. They plundered homes and people, taking whatever they wanted, lusting after what they could not have, and taking innocent lives!" His hand twisted cruelly in Aragorn's hair. "Long have I awaited for this chance," the elf smiled again, eyes narrowing. "Long have I waited to find the heir within my grasp." He slowly ran a sharp fingernail down Aragorn's cheek, leaving a thin red mark.

The man gritted his teeth as the elf continued. "You are going to pay for the wrongdoings of your forefathers, young one." He leaned even closer until Aragorn could feel his breath upon his face. "And you will pay dearly—first with your pain, and then with your life."

A chill down the ranger's spine. He knew the threats were not idle ones, and his heart sank when he saw that Legolas had entered the room. "My lord?" the elf quietly said. "You called for me?"

Daefuin turned. "Ah, Legolas. It is good to see you. Would you mind coming over here?"

Without a word the elf complied. Daefuin released his hold on Aragorn's hair. "Does this human mean anything to you, Legolas?" he asked, watching the elf's face.

"Nay." Legolas stated calmly. "He means nothing."

Aragorn's eyes flickered as he looked away, wishing he could cover his ears. He did not want to hear this coming from his friend.

"Really?" Daefuin continued carelessly. "Then I suppose you would not mind teaching him a lesson, would you, my friend?"

For a moment the wood-elf hesitated. Then, he stepped up in front of Aragorn. His jaw was set, and there was no hint of recognition. Slowly, he raised his hand.

"Legol—"

The elf slapped him across the face, hard. "Do not speak!" he hissed angrily. "I do not want to hear a word from you, _adan_." He slapped him again, this time harder.

Aragorn closed his eyes and dropped his head, but Daefuin placed a dagger at this throat. "You will keep your eyes open and your head up, or I will cut out your eyes." he threatened.

The ranger opened his eyes to glare at the elf, but there was definite pain in the eyes. As Legolas struck him again, the dark-haired elf smiled. "It stings, doesn't it, _Estel?_" He purposefully used the man's childhood name. "Strange how perfidy hurts so much."

The man didn't even try to answer; there was no point in trying. The only thing he could do now was to try to keep his emotions in check. Tears stung his eyes, but it was not from the pain in his face; it was from the anguish his heart as his former friend continued to strike him. Never before had he felt this way, and it cut him deeply.

"Enough." Daefuin's voice broke into his thoughts.

Half-dazed, Aragorn watched while the two elves quietly conversed as they left the room, leaving him alone in his misery. Dropping his head low, he finally could not deny the tears.

"Legolas…why?" he whispered. "Why?"

There was no one to answer him.

**TBC… **

**

* * *

**

**Translations: **

Dúron – "Dark one," I think.

Adan – man

* * *

**A/N:** First, I must apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. I was away for the most of August and had no time to write. Only when I came back in September did I have time to write. I hope you all will forgive me.

**A/N #2:** Do refrain from doing anything to poor Legolas, though. He's not very happy with me at this moment…and I don't blame him.

**A/N #3: **Apostate's Ruse will update soon after. It is currently being beta-ed.


	4. Chapter 3: Battles Inside and Out

_See first chapter for all notes, disclaimers, and warnings._

_Thanks, __**Kalisona**__, for betaing!_

* * *

**Edraith Gwador, To Save a Brother**

**Chapter 3: Battles Inside and Out**

When you have been betrayed,

Scorned by the one that was dear to you,

Can you still love?

Are you able to forgive?

-

Are you strong enough in both will and mind,

To forgo the suffering that you will bear?

-

Will your spirit hold amidst the pain and anguish,

Will you defeat the dark and return to the light?

-

Let not the despair eat away your heart,

Let not the world scar your heart.

-

Keep yourself open.

Do not fall to the Shadow,

But cling to hope.

-

_Garo estel…an ha broniatha i veth._

-

—Calenlass Greenleaf

The elf stalked through the narrow passageway. The others noticed his approach, and seeing his dark face, took detours to avoid crossing with him.

Legolas ignored them all—in fact, he was hardly paying to anything save for his thoughts. As he rounded the corner, he nearly crashed into another elf. Roughly shouldering him aside, he continued on his way. The other elf blinked for one moment before he quickly went about his own business. At times like these, they knew Legolas' mood rivaled that of their lord's. "Or his own father's," some dared to whisper. It was best not to cross him.

Finally, he reached his private room. Striding in, he slammed the door behind him and bolted it. He quickly walked over to the window and flung it wide open, letting the rays of the setting sun stream in. Closing his eyes, the elf leaned out the window and breathed deeply, as if savoring the warmth. His tall, lithe frame was bathed in the orange-yellow glow, giving him an ethereal appearance.

If only it were so. For his thoughts were dark and troubled, as turbulent as a storm. The eyes were now half-open, revealing blue slits of ice. His shoulders moved as he breathed in a rapid pace. The slim fingers of the archer tightened on the wooden frame. The elf easily hoisted himself up the window ledge and let his legs dangle down carelessly.

It was the accursed gaze of Isildur's heir that bothered him—those keen eyes that had looked upon him with so much compassion, feeling, and pain. From the pain, it appeared that this man truly did know him, but it was not that which bothered him. It was the compassion he sensed in the man. To the Silvan elf, compassion was no better than pity.

Legolas Greenleaf was never to be pitied, ever. He thought it as vulnerability, a sign of revealing your emotions to others.

And yet…those eyes also made him uncomfortable. Something in him wrenched. His conscience? Or something else? He could not place the emotion, and it irritated him to no end.

"Who does this man think he is," he thought aloud, "that he would care to pity me?" He let out a un-Elven snort. "I need none of that from a _mortal_."

A wind stirred his hair, gently lifting wayward strands and sending them flying. He paid no attention to them as he continued to speak to himself. "Perhaps I was wrong about Daefuin." His eyes narrowed. "I have had enough of this mortal."

Turning so that he faced the interior of his room, his frame blocked out the light of the setting sun. Had someone opened the door in that instant, they would have been unnerved to see the dark, glittering eyes of elf.

Legolas would erase from Daefuin's captive any sign of compassion. Aye; the man would learn to hate him and fear him. And perhaps, he might even be given the chance to end the life of Isildur's heir. He softly laughed to himself, the sound menacing and dangerous.

He would rid himself of those eyes that pierced him; they would be closed in pain and would no longer look at him like that.

The elf who had once considered Aragorn as a friend and brother was now no more; he had been replaced by one who enjoyed seeing the pain of others.

--

Aragorn tested the chains, pulling them this way and that. They held fast, much to his frustration. He sighed and let his head drop down to his chest. Gingerly, he wiped his bleeding lip on the shoulder of his tunic, leaving a crimson streak behind. His face ached with the blows that had been inflicted upon him, but he hardly cared about them at the moment.

No, it was the pain that his friend had caused inside his heart. The way Legolas' demeanor had been stoic and detached alarmed him. There was some resemblance to the Legolas he knew, but by the Valar, what had Daefuin done with him? Was it some head wound? Or perhaps something like—

—_like sorcery?_ The man could not bring himself to think about that.

He had no more time to reflect, for at that moment the door was unlocked, and in stepped Daefuin. He was accompanied by two elves unknown, and the Dúnadan was relieved, for he did not want Legolas to see his tears.

"You do not seem happy to see me, _Firion_," The Noldo quietly commented as he walked toward his prisoner.

'_And why would I be?'_ Aragorn sarcastically thought.

"Would you be happier to see my lackey?" The elf continued. "But he does not think that he wishes to see you."

"He is not your lackey!" The man suddenly burst out. "Legolas Thranduilion would never give in willingly to you! What have you done with him?"

Daefuin let out a forbearing sigh. "Did you not already ask that question? You Númenoreans have such short memories; long may your lives be," He grinned oddly. "And I am not surprised."

Aragorn ignored the comment. "How did you come by knowledge of my heritage?" he demanded.

"Would it surprise you if I told you that I have kept watch over you and your ancestors for many years now?" the elf casually asked. "Or rather, spied upon you?" He began circling the room. "The elves call you Estel, yes? And the name of your father is Arathorn, is it not?"

The man kept his mouth shut as the elf continued to speak. "I find it strange the elves of Rivendell would welcome the heirs of Isildur. But then again, Imladris is owned by a _peredhel_. Yet, he has a fair daughter. Yes, Arwen, the Evenstar of her people, whom I know you hold dear."

"If you have known for this long, why now? Why not earlier?" Aragorn finally asked, not wishing to hear more. All of this disturbed him; he thought that no one had known about his existence. The secret had been close-guarded, even from him until he was twenty. For a moment he thought Daefuin would ignore him.

"It is odd that an elf, even a half-elf, would take in the child of a foolish _adan_." Without a warning he suddenly grasped Aragorn by his hair, painfully jerking him up. "Tell me, what does Elrond see in you that he would willingly call you one of his own?" Daefuin answered his own question. "Because of _love_." He spat out the last word. "Aye, love for a brat whose father could not even protect himself from an orc. Indeed, I used to have the same sort of love, until you Númenoreans—" He gave his captive a glare. "—decided to take my son's life."

"But surely this happened long ago. Are you so daft as to hate an entire—" Aragorn's sentence was cut when Daefuin sharply slapped him, swearing as he did so.

"Revenge is best served in a cold dish, I have learned."

"But where does Legolas come into all this? He has done nothing against you." The man tried to wrench away from the elf holding him. "Tell me what you have done to him!"

"Hold still!" Daefuin rough cuffed him upside the head. "And keep silent."

Aragorn decide to obey; he was getting nowhere. Dropping his head down, he bit his lip.

"Much better," the elf softly said, looking him up and down. "Now, you do realize you will be a guest for a very long time here?"

"Nay, I do not. Nor do I wish to be a _guest_ here." His temper got the best of him, and he spat out the word _guest_. "I have done no grievance against you."

"No, you have not," Daefuin sighed condescendingly. "Have I not already told you why you are here, adan? You are here, paying for the sins of your forefather, and the rest of your kin."

Cold grey eyes gleamed. "And when I—and Legolas—are quite through with you," his lips curved into a smile. "There won't be any of you left. Your people, with no leader, will scatter. And not a single Heir of Isildur will ever get a chance to sit on that white pedestal in Minas Tirith!"

The mocking laugh came again. Aragorn shuddered and closed his eyes at his revelation. Never before in his life had he ever met someone who filled with, with—

Anger. Bitterness. Yes, bitterness. Despite the harsh bite of the words and the cold declarations he heard, they were tinged with bitterness so old and deep it made him pity the elf.

"Daefuin," he softly said, opening his eyes. "I don't know what makes you think that my people are littler better than orcs, but I do know that you are making a mistake. I cannot speak for or against the actions of those that came before me, but—" he carefully chose his next words. "You cannot live your life this way. It will kill you."

"Trying to be all noble and wise, are we?" The elf was not moved in any way. "A good try, but futile." His hand clamped down on the man's throat. "Your pretty words will get you nowhere. Nor will they get you anywhere with Legolas. He is under my power, understand? Nothing you say will move him to help you."

The ranger's spark of hope dimmed a little at this, but he shoved those thoughts away, unwilling to believe his friend was forever lost to that which was good. "How long will you be keeping me here?" he demanded, not really wanting an answer. His voice was strained, for the other had not released his hold on his throat.

A chuckle answered him. "Long enough for me to know everything about you." Daefuin's eyes glittered. "To know what you hate, and what you fear."

Aragorn idly wondered if all those who were deranged loved making these sorts of threats. It was not the first time he had encountered such people, but never before had he heard it from an elf, who sounded like he actually meant it.

Perhaps it was stating the obvious, but…he was in deep trouble. Very deep. Neither his brothers nor his father would be here to help him. Perhaps it was bad of him to think so, but he hoped he would die before the worst could happen to him. And Legolas…

Fear, despair, and heartache rose up in his throat and threatened to choke him. What of his friend? Was he in a pit so deep that even Aragorn could not reach him?

The sound of Daefuin's laughter grated in his ears. Aragorn squeezed his eyes tightly shut, wanting to block out this dark place, the sounds, and the horror of it all.

Who knew what awaited him?

--

Legolas still sat on the windowsill, occupied with the task of fletching his arrows. His fingers were agile and used to this sort of work. The knife in his right hand flashed and gleamed in the fading sunlight.

Darkness had always disturbed him. He would always prefer the sunlight to the moonlight, the golden rays to the silvery shadows. Perhaps he should have been born Vanyar.

_Then why do you persist in living in this place?_ A little voice taunted him.

_Because I have nowhere else to go_, he replied to himself. It was true; he dared not show his face in Rivendell, and he did not want to face his father either. In his heart he knew that Thranduil would not be pleased to discover what his son had been up to. He blew his breath out, making the feathers on his arrow quiver lightly.

_Stop thinking such thoughts!_ He scolded himself. _You work with Daefuin now. You cannot show such weakness._

It must have been that man. For weeks Legolas had done what his leader told him, without blinking an eye or showed concern. And now some upstart whelp that Daefuin had a vendetta against showed up with those queer eyes and turned his world upside down.

In his agitated state he nicked his finger and swore loudly. Resisting the urge to throw the arrow out the window, Legolas swiveled around and slammed the projectile against the desk, letting his knife clatter to the ground. He pressed down on the cut with his other hand, knowing that in a few hours, it would be gone without a trace.

Blood welled up between his fingers, dripping down. He pressed harder, not even flinching at the pain. He had taken far worse than this in his lifetime. The cut was deep and stung, but it would heal. He let his thoughts overtake him.

Daefuin would wait a few weeks before killing the man. Then, he would summon Legolas to do it. He would be quick, and death would actually be a mercy to that man.

And then he would forget that he ever existed.

Legolas shakily breathed in. He was no longer the elf he had once been; things had changed, and now he was who he was.

But one small part of him, that part that stubbornly rebelled, cried out against all that he had done, was doing, and would do.

_Killer._

_Assassin._

_Executioner._

The accusations rose one by one until they crowded his mind. Quite forgetting his cut, Legolas pressed his hands over his face and gritted his teeth.

He hated these condemning thoughts! Hated, hated, and hated them! The more he bent to Daefuin's will, the more they would not be silenced. They only clamored louder. _Shut up!_ He screamed at himself. _You have no hold over me! I won't listen. I will not!_

Somehow, he managed to viciously shove them away, and he felt a bit better. Slowly, the elf released hands and looked down at them. Blood stained them both, and he could also feel the sticky residue on his face. Calmly, he walked over to the basin the sat in a corner of the room. He dipped his hands into the water, washing the stains off. He splashed the water onto his flushed face, ridding himself the blood.

If only guilt was so easily washed away. The inside sins still clung to him.

Legolas looked up, water dripping down his face, neck, and the front of his tunic. The silver-blue eyes were distant and clouded, and his breathing sounded loud in the small confines.

_Don't think about what you are doing, Legolas,_ he told himself. _The quicker you are through with this, the better. Just—don't-think._

But though consciences can be ignored, they cannot be forever silenced. How Daefuin did it, he would never know. But he was not Daefuin.

And that was what Legolas hated the most.

**TBC…**

* * *

**Translations:**

Garo estel – Have hope

An ha broniatha i veth – And you will endure to the end.

Firion – mortal man

Peredhel – half elf

Adan – man

* * *

**A/N:** Poor ranger. :) But he will make it out alive. Just promise me none of you will tell his family…

**A/N #2:** You may have noticed that Legolas is rather movie-versed in his personality. It's because this was my first impression of him when I watched FOTR—Moria, to be exact—and for the first few weeks, I was rather (or, extremely) obsessed with him. Very bad of me, I know. But it was _this_ elf (the Legolas I'm writing in this story) that introduced to me the wonders of the _Lord of the Rings_. Therefore, in all my longer stories about Legolas, his personality will reflect that of the movies more. Meaning not so light-hearted…

**A/N #3:** I know—this chapter was looooong overdue! I'm quite sorry about that. So, for those of you who've waited very, very, long, my give you my sincerest apologies. It was bad of me, but RL was also to blame.

**A/N #4:** For those of you who were waiting for the angst, torture, h/c, etc, you're going to have to wait longer. This was more a transitional chapter. It's been titled such because Legolas is fighting himself, and Aragorn is fighting Legolas and Daefuin.


End file.
